Our Love Story Reads Like a Book of Lies
by Insomniac-Angel
Summary: Kurt always knew this thing would go bad, and when it did, he'd be the one left out in the cold. Kurt/Blaine/Sebastian threesome 'fic, fill for Glee Kink Meme.
1. Chapter 1

Hello,

So, yeah, I need to just stay away from the Glee Kink Meme...sooooooo many stories I wanna write! This one caught my interest because of the lovely angst potential :) Be advised, because this is a kink meme fill, the rating is going to go up. Prompt is as follows (paraphrased):

In the future, Sebastian comes back into Kurt and Blaine's lives. He's still after Blaine, but Blaine tells him he's still very much in love with Kurt and not interested. So, Sebastian proposes a polyamorous relationship...and though Blaine says no, Kurt can tell he's intrigued by the idea. So Kurt agrees, but the phenomena of Fail!Blaine (unsurprisingly) extends to threesomes. Sebastian and Kurt are still just as bitter enemies as they ever were and one night when Blaine's away-shit goes down.

Kinks requested: Threesome relationship between Blaine/Kurt/Sebastian, possible double penetration. Lots of angst and hurt/comfort, as well.

Disclaimer: I am in no way associated with the rightful owners of all recognizable characters and situations herein. Please don't sue me.

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><p>He'd known.<p>

He'd known it was all going to go wrong. It was always going to end terribly, and it was always going to be him getting the short end of the stick. He's seen this trainwreck coming since the very beginning, and he's done absolutely nothing to stop it. He'd known. So really, who does he have to blame but himself?

He sits on the floor in front of the bed—always _the_ bed in his mind now, never _their_ bed-unable to even bring himself to crawl up onto the mattress. He can't. He physically cannot make himself touch anything that's been sullied by _his_ presence. Not now.

He's been sitting there for close to an hour now, just staring blankly at the bedroom door. For the first half hour, there had been a cacophony of noise from the kitchen—pots and pans crashing together, glasses rattling, the blast of some football game or another on the television Kurt graciously allowed to be kept on the counter by the fridge. And over it all a steady stream of profanity in English, French, Spanish, and what Kurt is pretty sure was German. After the fifth shouted suggestion that Kurt go fuck himself with something sharp and preferably covered in sandpaper, he'd stopped paying attention.

There's a nearly empty bottle of wine sitting between his legs, the soft golden glow of the bedroom lamps turning its deep green glass almost black. He doesn't even remember why it's in the bedroom instead of on the wine rack in the dining room…he knows _he_ didn't bring it in here. With a shaking hand, he raises it to his lips yet again and takes an indelicate swig. It'd been nearly three quarters full when he started.

He doesn't like it…he prefers something crisp and sweet when he does drink. This is dry and somehow heavy, bitter on his tongue. It's one of those musky, expensive reds that he hates and they both love, and isn't that just the story of his life now? A grim, broken laugh erupts from him at what he's been reduced to—collapsed in a heap on his bedroom floor getting steadily drunk on wine he hates.

He needs the distraction, though. He needs the fuzzy disconnect the alcohol is blanketing his mind with, needs the fucking _distance_ it'll give him. He needs a night of just pure oblivion—no thoughts chasing themselves in circles, no dreams, no memories of just how badly things have gotten screwed up. The shaking in his hands gets worse, and his lips tremble as he takes another drink. His eyes are burning and he can barely swallow around the lump in his throat.

He startled out of his thoughts by a pounding on the door. He hasn't heard anything from out in the apartment for a while now…honestly, he thought the other occupant had left. The door handle jiggles a few times, and there is a frustrated sigh when the man on the other side of the door realizes Kurt has locked it.

"Really, Hummel? Locking yourself in your room like a little girl?" He has never hated anything so intensely as he hates that voice right now. It grates on his ears as it never has before. He knows the other is expecting him to throw open the door and unleash a torrent of insults and verbal jabs. It's how this dance goes between them, how it's gone since the day they met.

Instead he just sets the bottle down, draws his knees to his chest and buries his face against them. He can't. He can't take anymore. He's felt like he's living in the middle of a warzone for almost a year now, and he just cannot keep fighting. He's so _tired_ of fighting, feeling like he's always clawing for scraps of peace and happiness in the one place where he shouldn't have to.

"Jesus, how long are you planning on pitching this fit? Like, should I go put in a movie, or am I actually gonna be able to go to bed tonight?"

He presses his face tighter against his knees, biting down on his lip as the stinging in his eyes gets worse. He swallows against the fresh wave of tears, tries to marshal the reserves that have let him get through more years of hell than anyone his age should have to experience with his head held high, but _oh_ it feels like there's nothing left. The door handle rattles again.

"Seriously, Princess…you're not slitting your wrists in there or something, are you?" For a brief instant, Kurt almost thinks he hears something different in the tone of the words. If it were anyone else on the other side of the door, he might actually call it concern.

"Kurt? Hey…you wanna give me a signal here you're okay?"

Kurt's head snaps up, and the grief choking him is abruptly replaced by total, incandescent rage. No. No, he does _not_ get to act like he gives a damn about Kurt. He doesn't get to pretend that whether or not Kurt is 'okay' matters one goddamn whit to him…not when it never has before. His breath is suddenly coming in harsh pants, and his hand has curled around the neck of the bottle without conscious thought on his part.

He flings it with all his might, and it shatters upon impact…right at the height where that bastard's smirking, ferret-like face is. The glass rains down on the deep, cream-colored carpet he'd insisted on for the bedroom. The little bit of wine left in the bottom splatters on the door, running down in ruby-colored rivulets to stain the carpet, and tomorrow he'll curse his stupidity, moan about the difficulty of getting such a stain out.

Right now, though, all he can feel is grim satisfaction at the startled shout the crash elicits. He pushes his face back against his knees as the pounding on the door starts up again, punctuated with loud demands for Kurt to open the door. He ignores them. He knows he'll have to unlock the door eventually, have to force himself to pretend he didn't have a complete and total breakdown tonight. Blaine will be home in the morning, and Kurt will have to put his mask back on, hide any hint that there is anything wrong.

For the moment, though, all he can do is sit here and wish with every fiber of his being that Sebastian fucking Smythe had never come back into their lives.


	2. Chapter 2

Hello,

Thank you kindly for the alerts and whatnot. I'm glad people are enjoying :)

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><p>It starts like this.<p>

They are enjoying an early lunch together in one of their favorite restaurants—a little Indian place just a few blocks from Kurt's studio that makes amazing shrimp biryani. They are laughing over Kurt's excitement that the fall weather and its wonderful opportunities for layers is just around the corner, lingering over a shared bowl of pista kulfi off the dessert menu, and just enjoying each other's company. The weather is absolutely beautiful—summer's heat finally easing its grip on the city, and a nice enough breeze that they'd chosen to eat outside on the restaurant's patio.

Days like these have been rare in the past few weeks—Kurt's schedule has gone absolutely insane as he and his staff throw themselves into preparations for New York City's fashion week. Kurt's new spring and summer lines are being featured in his first solo show, and he's been driving himself into the ground putting finishing touches on the pieces. Blaine's schedule isn't much better. They had both been ecstatic when Blaine's regular weekend shows at a local nightclub had netted him some genuine interest from a few small recording labels, but they had not anticipated just how much time putting together a demo album would take up.

Today is the first day in almost a month that they've been able to do more than just kiss each other in greeting as they passed each other on the way in or out of the apartment. Kurt is leaning back in his chair, just enjoying the breeze on his face and the feel of Blaine's hand in his. He's laughing at something Blaine has just said when their wonderful, lazy day together is interrupted.

He won't know 'til later that it is not just their "date" that is ruined.

"Oh my God, Blaine Anderson, is that _you_?" The voice comes from somewhere behind Kurt, who is sitting at their table with his back facing the street.

Blaine actually has developed a small, but devoted, fanbase over the past couple of years on the New York music scene. It's a rare, but not unheard of occurrence for someone to approach him when he's out and about, looking for an autograph or just to tell him that they love his music. Someday, Kurt fully expects it to be a regular thing. There is something faintly familiar about this voice, though. Blaine looks up and over Kurt's shoulder, and his brow instantly furrows in confusion. Kurt can tell from his expression that he recognizes the person who's speaking, but can't quite place them.

His face clears a moment later, though, his face melting into surprise. He starts to smile in welcome, but the expression seems to freeze about halfway through…and his eyes dart to Kurt nervously. Kurt frowns, twisting around in his seat. Unlike Blaine, Kurt recognizes the man standing on the other side of the little brick divider that separates the restaurant patio from the sidewalk instantly. He's always been better with names and faces than his boyfriend.

He's a little taller than he was in high school, and his lean, lanky frame is broader across the chest and shoulders, the muscles defined under the thin t-shirt he's wearing without being obnoxiously huge. He seems to have grown into his features in the ten years since high school, the sharp edges that had always reminded Kurt of nothing so much as a large ferret (although Kurt will concede that a lot of that impression probably stemmed from the personality behind the face) softened by adulthood into something that is just pleasingly angular. He's leaning casually against the divider, an expensive pair of jeans riding low—though tastefully so—on his hips and a pair of equally expensive sunglasses dangling from the vee collar of his shirt. He looks, Kurt concludes, like he just stepped out of the pages of a fashion shoot…and not even one of the pathetic ones like Abercrombie or GAP.

"Sebastian…wow, how are you?" Blaine says lamely.

Kurt immediately wants to kick his boyfriend in the ankle, as Sebastian Smythe—the same Sebastian Smythe who in high school even Puck had deemed a "total stalker" and quite seriously offered to go beat up—takes that as an invitation to join them. Looking around quickly to make sure no servers are watching, Sebastian plants his hands on the divider and boosts himself over. Kurt turns around and raises his eyebrow at Blaine, who just shrugs helplessly, just as incapable of being impolite to someone now as he ever was in high school.

Kurt sighs heavily, forcing himself to smile as pleasantly as he can. He is not the boy he was when Sebastian first breezed into their lives—seemingly just unable to catch a break and deeply fearful of losing one of the few unmitigated bright spots in his life at the time. He'd let Sebastian get under his skin then, let himself be goaded and ruled by his insecurities as he is sure he never would have had he not been having such an utterly crap senior year.

He and Blaine are even more deeply in love than ever, defying all the odds against them and staying together past high school. He may not have conquered Broadway like he thought he wanted, but transferring from NYADA to FIT his sophomore year is a decision he will never regret. There are Hollywood starlets who will wear nothing but a Kurt Hummel original to an awards show, and early reviews of the new lines he plans to unveil at Fashion Week are being hailed as a breath of fresh air in the fashion world. He is living the life he always dreamed of back in Lima, and Sebastian Smythe is absolutely no threat to him.

Still, that doesn't mean he wants to waste any of his precious free time with Blaine talking to someone who was a complete ass to him in high school.

Sebastian pulls a chair out from the table next to them, sitting down at their table, smiling the exact same smile Kurt remembers from high school—just a little too predatory to come off as genuine. "Man, how crazy is this? Blaine, it's been _years_," Sebastian enthuses. He reaches over to clap Blaine on the shoulder as if they are best friends reuniting after a long absence, before turning slightly to look at Kurt for the first time. "And who's your fr—whoa. Kurt?" Sebastian's eyes widen in surprise, and Kurt inclines his head regally.

"Sebastian. Long time, no see," he says sweetly. He resists the urge to scoot his chair closer to Blaine's and entwine their hands again. He's twenty-eight years old, for pity's sake…far beyond the need to mark his territory like an angry dog.

Sebastian glances between the two of them, his eyebrows climbing towards his hairline. "Wow. You two are still together?"

Blaine glances over at him and grins dopily, taking one of Kurt's hands and lifting it to his lips. "Eleven years this March," he says. Kurt smiles softly back at him.

"That's…huh, that's so great. Good for you two." Sebastian's tone is jovial, but Kurt doesn't miss the slight edge on the words, the way Sebastian's eyes darken for just an instant.

It's gone almost as quickly as it appears, though. Sebastian back comfortably in his chair and signaling one of the waitresses over. He orders all three of them an iced chai tea without asking if Blaine and Kurt want anything (or even want to stay long enough to have a drink with him), and Kurt rolls his eyes, shaking his head as the waitress clears their dessert dish away.

He and Blaine share a look, Blaine silently asking what Kurt wants to do with the tilt of an eyebrow. Kurt considers a moment, before surrendering with a shrug of one shoulder. He'd never understood the appeal of Sebastian's company, but even Blaine wasn't so polite as to keep talking to someone he absolutely detested. He can be gracious and let the two catch up.

"So, Sebastian, uh, what brings you to New York? Do you live here?" Blaine says, a touch awkwardly.

"Hope to be…depends on work. I've been out in LA for the past couple of years." The waitress returns with their drinks, and for a moment Kurt expects him to do something gauche like tell her to put them on Kurt and Blaine's bill. That's not really fair, though. Whatever his other failings, someone did take the time to teach Sebastian how to behave in polite company (they also, though, apparently taught him that such behavior was optional, so Kurt doesn't give them too much credit), and he asks her to put them on a separate ticket.

"LA, really. Trying to get an acting career started?" Kurt can't help the little emphasis he puts on the word "trying". He can be mature about it, but that doesn't mean he's forgotten all those dozens and dozens of digs Sebastian had lobbed his way whenever they'd interacted back in high school.

Sebastian's mouth just quirks up a little in a half-grin though. "Modeling, actually," he says, winking saucily at Blaine, and Kurt can practically feel his hackles going up. "And no 'trying' about it…I've been with IMG for three years, now. Just got done with a really big spread, and my agent insisted I need to start booking gigs here in New York…so here I am." He spreads his arms wide—coincidentally showing off some nicely defined pecs—grinning like the cat that got the cream. Kurt is reluctantly impressed. IMG is a well-respected firm, one he often has his assistant hire models from when putting together his shows. He lets the opportunity to make a snide comment about never having heard of Sebastian from his contacts pass—he _is_ being mature after all. "So what about you two? Kurt, I thought you were gonna take Broadway by storm…are you still stuck doing community theater?"

Kurt narrows his eyes slightly, something in Sebastian's tone ticking in the back of his mind. It's not just the oh-so-innocent insult (in comparison with some of the conversations he's had with Sebastian in the past, this is positively delightful)…there is something almost calculated in Sebastian's voice. Not so much that he's looking for ways to get in a good verbal jab…more he seems to be trying to steer the conversation in a certain way.

"Oh, Kurt switched to a fashion major the year I got here…graduated top of his class from FIT!" Blaine gushes immediately, and Kurt hides a pleased smile behind his glass of tea. "He's practically got his own empire started…KH Designs. He's got his own show at Fashion Week next month!"

Sebastian affects an impressed expression and again, there is something just a little bit false about it. "KH…_you__'__re_ KH? That's amazing…didn't Daniel Craig wear one of your tuxes at the Oscars last year?"

Kurt doesn't try to hide his grin at that. That had been one of the most amazing experiences of his life. "Yes, that was one of ours. I call that line Dapper On." It's his turn to wink at Blaine, his inspiration for the classy, elegant silhouettes in his first menswear line.

"It was awesome…I mean, Daniel Craig could make a trash bag look good, but that was a great suit." Sebastian shakes his head, his eyes shifting briefly from Blaine to look at Kurt. "And I just can't believe that you're the guy in charge of KH. Talk about a small world! This is just too funny."

Kurt feels his smile freeze on his face. Sebastian is looking at him with that same gleam of smug triumph in his eyes that he remembers all too well from high school.

"What do you mean?" Blaine asks, confused. Kurt just tilts his head, grinding his teeth as Sebastian's lips stretch into an amused smirk.

"Well, the reason I'm in this part of town today is I had an interview at this amazing, up and coming design house that needs models for their first show at Fashion Week."

Kurt feels his jaw drop, and there's nothing he can do about it. He's been so stressed out trying to get the actual clothes put together that he'd just given his assistant, Erin, carte blanche to handle getting all the models arranged. She's his right hand at the office, and he trusts her judgment implicitly in finding people that his clothes will look perfect on.

Sebastian grins at him, a shark-like sneer that shows entirely too many teeth. "Ms. Porter thinks I'd be absolutely _perfect_ for the men's lines. I guess we'll all be seeing a lot more of each other, huh?"


	3. Chapter 3

Hello,

So, yeah, LJ is being a bitch tonight and insisting over and over that I'm not responding to captcha properly...so this site gets this update first :)

Many thanks to those who have favorited, alerted, and reviewed. I am glad people are enjoying.

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><p>Kurt tries so hard not to let his irritation at watching Sebastian swan back into his life-<em>their<em> life—ruin the rest of his day with Blaine, but eventually has to give it up as a lost cause. The frustration simmers in his veins long after Sebastian finally takes his leave of them (being _oh_ so careful to 'casually' mention that he's staying at the Plaza. One of their nicest suites, of course.) and he and Blaine continue on to the museum exhibit they'd planned on seeing. It leaves a sour taste in his mouth and casts a pall over the rest of the day. By the time they get back to their apartment, it's a physical sensation—an itch underneath his skin that he just can't get rid of.

Blaine, long used to his ways, just kisses him sweetly and retreats into the living room, grabbing his guitar from its stand by the TV and collapsing on the couch. He strums on it absently as Kurt heads straight for the kitchen, occasionally making notations on a few sheets of music paper scattered on the coffee table. He's been working out the chords for an original song for his demo for a week now, and Kurt finally feels a measure of calm as he is surrounded by the sights and smells of his home, the reassuring familiarity of Blaine's presence and the soft snatches of music slowly coming together into something beautiful. Blaine doesn't try to talk to him, well aware that Kurt needs to get his own thoughts straight before trying to articulate them. He just keeps playing and singing softly in the living room, and it does more to soothe Kurt's temper than anything else his boyfriend could have done.

Cooking has always been a stress reliever for Kurt, and he decides to throw a nice vegetable soup and a decadent homemade crème brulee together for dinner. Plenty of violent chopping involved and hey, he gets to set the custards on fire. He loses himself in the rhythm of scrubbing, peeling, chopping, and dicing, just trying to get himself under some sort of control. The potatoes, onions, and carrots are decimated in short order, and he is halfway through the leeks before he starts feeling calmer. He gets the vegetables sautéing together and pulls out the eggs, cream, and sugar for his brulee.

The guitar gets softer in the living room. He can easily picture Blaine on their couch, his head cocked to one side as he listens to the sounds of Kurt banging around in the kitchen, trying to judge whether or not Kurt's ready to talk about what's bothering him. The thing is…Kurt's not sure he can really express the problem. Not in any way Blaine would understand.

Blaine was a wonderful, kind, loving boy who grew into an even more wonderful, kind, loving man. There is absolutely no part of Blaine that Kurt does not love, but that does not mean he's without his flaws. And one of those flaws is that he is so damn insistent on trying to see the good in people, he will often just ignore the bad until he literally has no other choice but to acknowledge it. Kurt's all for forgiving people their imperfections—after all, he still counts Rachel Berry as his best friend in the world after Blaine—but not to the point where it lets people take advantage of him.

Blaine had never seen just how truly ugly Sebastian was to Kurt. He'd thought the guy went overboard on the flirting and needed to learn how to accept 'no' for an answer, but he'd ultimately seen Sebastian as harmless. A casual friend who occasionally needed to be reminded that Blaine was very happily taken, like it was a big joke. Kurt and Sebastian both had gone to great lengths to hide how much they actively hated each other from Blaine. Looking back on it, Kurt can see it was a foolish thing to do on his part…surely Blaine would've told Sebastian to back off in no uncertain terms had he know how truly uncomfortable the other boy made Kurt. Blaine wouldn't have accepted any friendship, no matter how casual, if he had heard the poison that dripped from their words when Sebastian and Kurt were alone, seen the viciousness and contempt with which Sebastian addressed him.

Back then, though, Kurt had been terrified that if he really tried to make his boyfriend see Sebastian for who he truly was, Blaine might just decide that Sebastian was right about Kurt. He was afraid Blaine really might decide that he was too good for Kurt; that he could do better with someone like Sebastian. It was a stupid, immature fear—but that year Sebastian had managed to do what no bully or setback had ever managed to do before. Sebastian had made him doubt himself. He'd made him doubt his worth and his worthiness. He'd made Kurt wonder, even briefly, if he was deluding himself, thinking that he could have the love and happiness that Blaine brought to his life.

Looking at Sebastian today had just brought all those feelings rushing back with a vengeance. He'd been prepared to let bygones be bygones. It seemed so silly to hold a grudge against someone for things they did when you were children…but then he'd seen the way Sebastian's eyes followed Blaine, just like they had all those years ago. With that same hunger. He'd seen that same ugly little smirk on Sebastian's face—like he was just waiting for Kurt to step into some trap he'd laid.

He is startled from his introspections when warm hands settle on his hips from behind. Blaine winds his arms tightly around Kurt's waist, propping his chin up on his shoulder. He relaxes against Blaine's solid frame, turning his attention back to mixing vanilla and sugar into the cream. Blaine hums happily against his neck, peppering little kisses up his jawline and under his ear as he pours the mixture into a saucepan.

"Do we have any chocolate chips?" Blaine asks hopefully, sounding so much like an eager little boy that Kurt has to laugh.

"I'm not making cookies," he retorts.

"See, there you go again…insisting that there are desserts out there that can't be improved with chocolate."

Kurt shakes his head and moves to take the saucepan over to the stove. Blaine's hands tighten on his hips, though, gently holding him in place. He sighs as he sets the saucepan back on the counter, turning slowly in his boyfriend's arms. He reaches up to wrap his own arms around Blaine's neck, leaning down slightly to rest his forehead against Blaine's.

"Are you okay?" Blaine asks seriously, his voice soft and concerned. "Talk to me."

And Kurt wants to. He really, really wants to tell Blaine how he's feeling…how conflicted and wary he is about Sebastian. How very much he does I_not_/I want to have to deal with Sebastian at his studio, to have to see him on a near daily basis. He wants to tell Blaine that it makes him a little sick to think of taking the designs he's worked so hard on, poured so much of himself into, and tailoring them to look beautiful on someone who made him so miserable. He wants to tell Blaine everything…but he can't.

Because Sebastian has always been and apparently will always be a manipulative bastard, and Kurt played right into his hands.

"_Hey __Blaine__…__listen, __can __I __talk __to __Kurt __alone __for __a __minute?__"_

_The question comes as he and Blaine are finally gathering their things to leave. Sebastian is toying with a straw on the table, looking almost nervous. Kurt's brow furrows, but there is no way he intends to give Sebastian an opening to start insulting him outside of Blaine's earshot. _

_Before Blaine can open his mouth, Kurt is shaking his head. "It's fine...Blaine and I don't have secrets." He chuckles lightly, trying to add a teasing note to his voice. Judging by the side-eye Blaine is casting him, he's not entirely successful. He doesn't realize his mistake until he sees Sebastian's shoulders relax, something sly and victorious shining in his eyes. _

_The other man affects a humble expression, though, his features twisting in remorse that Kurt knows down to his gut is completely false. _

"_Look…I just wanted to say I'm sorry," Sebastian says quietly. "I was a real asshole to you back in high school. I know I said some awful things to you, and you didn't deserve any of it, Kurt." _

_For the second time in the afternoon, Kurt is gobsmacked. His mouth works soundlessly for a few seconds, and Sebastian presses on, staring right at Kurt. His eyes are hard and calculating, though, at complete odds with his conciliatory tone. "I'm not going to lie…working for KH would be huge for my career. Everyone in the industry knows you're the next big thing. I just hope we can put the past behind us and work together…and that, you know, you won't hold what I was like back then against me."_

_It is a beautifully worded apology. It sounds so heartfelt and sincere. Kurt doesn't even have to look at Blaine to know that his eyes are shining with admiration for such a display of nobility and honor. _

_Too bad it's fake._

"_Sebastian__…__Kurt __would _never d_o __something __like __that,__" __Blaine __says __immediately, __looking __over __at __Kurt __as __if __for __confirmation. __Kurt __forces __a __smile __and __hopes __it __doesn__'__t __look __as __pained __as __it __feels. __He __is __tempted __for __a __moment __to __just __grab __a __fork __off __of __the __table __and __shove __it __in __Sebastian__'__s __stupid, __smirking __face._

_In the end, though, with Blaine looking at him so expectantly, all he can do is nod jerkily. "Of course not…let's just consider this a fresh start." The words taste sour on his tongue, but Blaine beams at him, his eyes proud and adoring. Sebastian is grinning as well, and seriously…how can anyone look at this man and not immediately realize he's a live-action Disney villain? _

_He manages to shake Sebastian's hand as they are leaving, choking out a pleasant goodbye and a promise to have Erin call him Monday with more details on a contract with KH designs. Blaine wraps his arm around his waist as they leave the restaurant, chattering happily about the museum display they have tickets to…but all of Kurt's attention is turned inward as he mentally tries to tally up a list of reasons not to murder his assistant at the earliest possible opportunity._

He tries to muster up a smile for Blaine. He can't tell his boyfriend how he's really feeling. With one truly masterful performance Sebastian has ensured that Kurt has to let the man back into their lives or just end up looking like a petulant child. Hell, even if Kurt was willing to risk disappointing Blaine, he can't let the kind of publicity firing Sebastian would cause touch his design house. Sebastian has quite effectively blocked him into a corner.

Besides, and perhaps most infuriating of all, Sebastian _is_ absolutely perfect for the menswear line. The man is gorgeous and Kurt's clothes are going to look gorgeous on him.

He shakes his head, dipping his chin to kiss Blaine again. "It's nothing," he assures. "I'm just stressed out about the show…you know how it's been."

For a moment he thinks Blaine is going to call him on his bluff. Eventually, though, the other man just sighs, tightening his embrace. "I do know. But you're amazing and your show is going to be amazing. I'm so proud of you, Kurt."

He smiles, closing his eyes and just basking in the presence of the man he loves. "I'm proud of you, too. I can't wait to see you up on stage at your first sold-out concert." It's Blaine's turn to grin, and his boyfriend suddenly twirls him around the kitchen in an impromptu dance step. Kurt cannot help but laugh aloud as they waltz past the refrigerator, throwing his head back as Blaine dips him dramatically.

He lets Blaine dance him over to the stove so he can stir the vegetables, and tries to let his misgivings about Sebastian go.

After all, how bad could it really be?


End file.
